Seven Year Twitch
by ReignitedN7
Summary: Lydia finds herself in her room with bloodied hands and a broken mirror. Her memory of the past two years are gone...she doesn't realize that everything that was the Netherworld, everything that was Betelgeuse, was wiped from her memory...but the one thing she does know is that when you break a mirror...that's seven years bad luck...and no one forgets the Ghost with the Most.
1. Shattered

**I do not own Beetlejuice (Betelgeuse) or any of the characters in the franchise. I wish I did because I'd follow up on the second movie we've been hearing about for the past 5+ FREAKING YEARS...**

* * *

There was no sound except for the ringing in her ears. Her head throbbed with each pulse of her heart, which was running at a frantic pace. Her eyes tried to fix on a spot on the carpet, but the world seemed to be on a slant.

Her hands were held out in front of her. She found it fascinating how her blood pulsed out of the gashes along her fingers. Then she vaguely realized that she wasn't feeling any pain.

 _Lydia?!_

She recognized that voice and wasn't so happy to hear it. Why are you here?

Small hands touched her chin and lifted it to their eye level. Delia's hands were cold.

 _Lydia? Can you hear me?_

Lydia slowly nodded her head. She looked past Delia's shoulder over to where her vanity stood. For a fleeting moment she expected to see something there…but she wasn't sure what. Oh…my mirror is broken.

"What…?"

 _Lydia, we need to get you to the hospital. You're bleeding!_

"What…happened?" her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Delia dropped her hand to the girl's shoulders and squeezed. Her nails bit into the skin.

 _You had an accident. You must have tripped and fell against your vanity. I just found you!_

"My mirror?"

 _You knocked it off the vanity. I don't think it can be fixed..._

Lydia continued to stare in a daze. Oh, this isn't good. She watched as Delia grabbed a pillow from the bed. She took off the pillowcase and began wrapping Lydia's hands.

 _Come on get up. You need medical attention. Your father is going to be so upset!_

"Seven years."

 _What?_

"Seven years…that's seven years bad luck."


	2. Move On

I do not own Beetlejuice and it's characters. That honor belongs to Tim Burton...

I'm hoping this story will pick up interest. I go with reviews people...If I get at least five reviews on this chapter then I'll publish the next one!

Enjoy.

* * *

This day was years coming and it was finally here. Lydia Deetz practically sprang from her bed when her vampire alarm clock went off. She's had that alarm forever and it remained faithful when it came to waking her up. Her hand slammed down on the coffin, effectively shutting the screeching vampire up until tomorrow morning.

 _"Oh Lydia!"_

Lydia cringed as she ran her hands through her black dress. Her step-mother's sing song voice vibrated up the stairs as she called again. That was another type of screeching she'd grown accustomed to. Delia was way too damn happy this morning and Lydia had a pretty good idea why. Lydia padded to her bedroom door and cracked it open.

"I'll be right down."

She quickly shut the door before Delia could respond and her back against it. Her brown eyes scanned her bedroom and mountains of cardboard boxes piled around her bed. She couldn't help but grin. Today was the day.

Moving day.

Lydia graduated with honors from Mrs. Shannon's School for Young Girls but wasn't able to get into college until three years later. Between her father's second breakdown after graduation and Delia's insistence that they couldn't send her to _just any college_ , Lydia was pretty much stuck at home with her parents. The first year after graduation, Lydia pursued the local community colleges. She figured attend for the first two years and get her associate's degree before moving onto what she really wanted: professional photography. It would be good to stay close to home too so she could visit her dad. Delia had other plans.

 _Why waste your talents at some hick community college? Go big or go home Lydia!_

So Lydia did. Three out of state art institutes had accepted her applications, but Delia found every excuse not to send her there. _You're going to waste your father's hard earned money on that dump?_

Lydia wanted to roll her eyes.

Stepping between boxes and piles of laundry, Lydia found her suitcase tucked next to her dresser. It was half packed but it was the one with all the clean clothes. She shimmied out of her pajamas and dug in her suitcase for the day's clothes. Bra, clean panties, shirt and shorts will get her through today. After pulling on her black shirt, she grabbed a hair tie from the dresser and side stepped a particularly big box over to the standing mirror.

There she paused.

This was one thing she wasn't taking. The full length mirror. Delia gave it to her after her little 'accident' and she never liked it. It was just a plain wooden mirror…so why did she feel so uncomfortable in front of it?

Lydia turned from side to side, inspecting her image in the reflection. It wasn't that she didn't like how she looked in the mirror...it's almost as if something was missing. This wasn't a new feeling either. Everytime she looked in the reflection and smiled, she was almost disappointed to see white teeth instead of rotted cavities. Why would she want that?

Shaking the thought from her head, Lydia proceed to tie her hair in a messy bun and used a few pins to keep her bangs from falling into her eyes. Once satisfied that she looked somewhat decent, she headed towards aroma of coffee that was silently beckoning her from the kitchen.

* * *

Lydia had half the mind to turn around and bolt back up the stairs as she entered the kitchen. Her father, Charles, sat quietly at the table with the morning paper up and covering his face. His fingers kneaded nervously at the newspaper, making it crinkle under the pressure. Delia had the phone resting on her shoulder as she proceeded to yell at the unfortunate receiver on the other end of the line. It was probably the moving van company.

The coffee pot was across the kitchen next to the sink. If she timed it just right she could cross the kitchen, grab her mug, pour the coffee, and be out of there before anyone noticed.

But the cat always noticed. Percy's big green eyes stared at his human as she tried to sneak past the table. He let out a long, loud, mewling cry. He hadn't been fed yet and the other humans seemed not to care.

Charles lowered his paper and spotted Lydia in mid crouch.

 _Damn cat._

Lydia put a finger to her lips. Charles raised an eyebrow at his daughter before shrugging and resumed reading his paper.

Nearly there...and…

Percy mewled again. This time much louder. Delia spun on her heel and pinned Lydia with a pointed stare.

"Well it's about time you joined the land of the living!"

 _DAMN CAT._

"The moving van will be here any moment! They're already an hour late, but I spose since you _just_ woke up, everything should fall on schedule now."

Delia ended the call and set the phone down on the counter top. The older woman crossed her arms and watched Lydia pour her coffee.

"I think you drink too much coffee Lydia. You hardly ever sleep and the bags under your eyes are only going to get worse. How do you expect to find a man looking like the undead?" Delia paused. "Or is that the whole point with-" she gestured her hands towards Lydia "-this look you've been sporting your entire life?"

Lydia took a long sip from her coffee. It singed her lips a bit and she was tempted to 'accidentally' trip and spatter the hot liquid on her step-mother.

"I just have a thing for dead guys. Figured the whole rigor mortis thing would be fun-" Lydia was cut off by a loud coughing gesture from her father. He shook his head at her, none too pleased.

"Quit baiting your mother. She's only looking out for what's best for you."

Lydia chose not to say anything and took another sip of her coffee. She really wished he'd stop referring to Delia as her mother. Her mother was dead. _Dead, dead, deadski._ And that was all thanks to the cancer that didn't know when to fuck off after seven rounds of chemotherapy.

Lydia sighed loudly.

"Are you all packed up?" Charles attempted to change the subject.

"Pretty much. Just a few things need to go into the dryer and I want to get a box from the attic."

"What's in the attic?"

"Mom's box."

Delia made an audible sound of disgust from across the kitchen. Charles chose to ignore her.

"Why do you want that? It's probably better if you keep it here where it's safe."

Lydia frowned.

"No I'll just take it with me. It might disappear and end up at Goodwill if I don't."

"It was an accident Lydia!" Delia shrieked and threw her hands up in the air "How many times do I have to explain that to you?"

Lydia turned and rounded on her step mother. She nearly spilled her coffee. She wished she did.

"Twice! Twice I found it at the thrift store! I spent $100 just to buy back all the stuff they took out of it!"

"It was a box of junk Lydia!"

"My mother's camera? Her pictures? _Her wedding ring?!_ " The two women were nearly noses apart before Charles stood up, effectively knocking over his chair.

"That's enough! Lydia-go and finish packing! Delia, come sit down before your makeup starts to run," he bent to pick up his chair, and then added as an afterthought "Leave her alone."

Lydia wasn't sure to who he was referring to in his last statement.

"No problem." she huffed. Lydia dumped the rest of the coffee out of the mug (what a waste) and stormed out of the kitchen. She could hear Delia wail at about hard it was to 'set that child straight'.

Childishly, Lydia stomped her feet all the way up the stairs and then slammed her door for good measure. That feeling lasted only a second before her shoulders slumped and the whole idea of adulthood took its sharp claws and dug them into her consciousness.

 _Forgot to feed the damn cat._

* * *

The upstairs attic looked like something from a kids horror movie. Every surface was covered in inches of dust and spiders had made lovely webs between various items in the small space. Various abandoned 'sculptures' took up most of the space in the attic. Delia refused to part with them but made the excuse that their auras didn't blend in wit the rest of the house.

Lydia snorted as she made her way into the dusty space and proceeded to uncover the one box she so meticulously hid from her step-mother. Many times she had to move the box from Delia. When they moved into the Victorian house, Delia set to remodel the house and dispose of anything and everything left of the previous tenants. Including a really cool hand made model of the town they lived in. The owner had hand built the entire town in his attic, and it was the first thing sold off in the yard sale. A family member bought it, so it wasn't a complete loss, but Lydia would have liked to keep it for photo props.

Shoving the last box aside, Lydia finally uncovered her mother's keepsake box. The wooden box was no bigger than a regular shoe box, but it held her mother's entity in there. Charles had given it to Lydia a week before he announced his engagement to Delia. He probably didn't want Delia to find out about it at first and more than likely didn't care about it now that he's actually married to her.

Lydia ran her hand across the lacquered wood and settled on the brass hinge. She flicked it up and opened it. Lydia let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. A stack of polaroid photos sat in the corner of the box, neatly tied together with a red ribbon. Next to it was a small velvet box that held her mother's wedding ring in it. She stuck her hand inside and moved the trinkets around with her finger. A pair of pearl earrings. A spider brooch. A plastic bag with various cooking recipe notes. A broken golden chain, and ouch-

Lydia pulled back her hand to find that her finger had been cut. She stuck the abused finger in her mouth and looked back into the box. She found herself looking at the reflection of her own brown eyes.

A single piece of broken mirror.

Setting the box on her lap, she used her other hand and gingerly picked up the mirror piece. It was roughly the size of her palm. A smudge of red across its reflective surface confirmed it to be the offending culprit. Yet oddly enough…

"It's completely round."

Lydia turned the mirror on it's back and found a small chunk was missing, thus producing a jagged edge that sliced her finger. But besides that, the entire piece was completely and symmetrically circular.

Mathematicians would love this as proof of the Golden Ratio.

But this didn't belong to her mom...did it?

Lydia held the mirror closer to her face. One of her brown eyes was perfectly framed in the reflection.

Suddenly her once brown eye turned and ugly shade of putrid jade and yellow in the reflection. The eye glared back at her with a venom that made her blood run cold. She shrieked and dropped the mirror back into the box. She slammed the cover closed and held her hand against it, as if whatever in the mirror might rise forth from it.

Lydia held her breath.

"Pumpkin?"

Lydia visibly jumped and clutched her mother's box tighter. Charles stood at the door of the attic with his hands in his pockets.

"Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." he studied her sitting on the dusty floor. Lydia plastered a smile on her face and laughed mechanically.

"I saw a beetle!" she quickly explained. Her grip on the box lessened when her father quickly looked down at his feet. He lifted a foot as if to find the offending bug under his heel.

"A beetle? What would a beetle be doing in an attic?"

"I have no idea dad. It just...snuck up on me!" Lydia pulled her legs up and stood up from the floor. She dusted her bottom off before walking to the doorway."I found mom's stuff. I'm all set to go!" she held up the wooden box. Charles studied her for a moment before looking around the attic again. Lydia rolled her eyes and moved to push past her father.

"Well I hope we're not getting an infestation." he commented as he turned to follow his daughter. The door closed with an audible click.

"I don't think so dad."

* * *

He _knew_ it was her. He felt the tell-tale shiver run up his spine when she touched the mirror. He hadn't had that sensation in nearly seven years. She nicked her finger on the mirror's back and he could almost taste the red liquid on his lips. He groaned loudly.

It was _her_ alright.

 _Seven. Fucking. Years._

He chewed on his cigarette.

He recognize those brown doe eyes anywhere.

He should have felt elated when he realized it was her. Yet instead...all he felt was an intense rage building up in his stomach.

 _Seven. Fucking. Years._

With a snap of his fingers he sent a jolt of juice through the mirror and felt satisfied when she dropped the mirror.

 _Bitch._

He immediately regretted it when the mirror went dark again and he sent out another jolt of juice in annoyment. _Fucking great._ Last time she even touched the box was about three years ago.

But he didn't sense her put down the box. It was still in her arms. She was walking with it. She was actually taking the box somewhere.

 _About damn time._ He plucked the cigarette from his lips and flicked it away.

His lips curled back from his rotting black pointed teeth and he sneered at his blank mirror.

 _Time to turn up the juice and see what shakes loose..._


	3. Keepsake

**I DO NOT OWN BETELGEUSE/BEETLEJUICE AND IT'S CHARACTERS. THEY BELONG TO TIM BURTON.**

* * *

Lydia had been sitting in her car for the past thirty minutes. Her eyes passed between the map in her hands and the house (if you could still call it that) in front of her. This couldn't be right. A four-hour drive to Winter River, Connecticut, and _this_ is what she gets to call home?

With a loud sigh, Lydia tossed the map in no general direction and opened the car door to get out. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the moving van honked behind her as it pulled up the driveway. Another car pulled up behind the van.

 _Oh no. No, no, no._

Lydia groaned and adjusted her black sunhat so that she could cover her face. A woman in her mid thirties exited the other car and turned to Lydia with a polite smile.

Jane Butterfield.

Jane stood for a moment before straitening her already pristine white collar and headed in Lydia's direction. Lydia plastered on her best smile.

"Lydia!" Jane greeted with her arms open. The older woman came in for an awkward hug in which Lydia responded to a light pat on her back.

"It's been what—seven years now?" Jane pulled away and stood to look over Lydia. Her face fell as she took in Lydia's black boots, red striped stockings, black cargo pants, belts, black halter-top and fingerless black gloves. "You haven't changed a bit," she sighed. "Except for, you know-" she gestured her hand up and down "being all grown up and what not."

"Thanks Jane. You look…great." Lydia tried to deflect the woman's obvious dislike in her fashion choices. This seemed to work as Jane's face lit up again.

"Oh your so sweet! I've tried this new face cream—your mom recommended it to me—and I really think it's doing good for my complexion!" Jane snorted as she giggled, "Can't be looking like my age now, can I?"

Lydia smiled politely. Jane cleared her throat and gestured to the house in front of them.

"So how are your parents? Are they still in New York? I tell you what that house I sold them is absolutely perfect for them! Especially your mother—being so close to her galleries and what not!"

"Yeah they're still there. Delia seems to like it."

"Oh good. You know that house use to belong in my family? My relatives didn't need it anymore and it sold to your father just days after!" Jane gestured towards the house. "So what do you think? Your father picked it out for you." she started walking towards the house, making Lydia fall into her wake. "This house was also in my family…"

"But it's so…big."

"Yes, I had thought about that too, but your father insisted you have plenty of space for your photography."

Lydia considered the thought for a moment. The house was defiantly the better option then sharing an apartment with strange people-or rather normal people who would find her strange. Yeah, the house was better option.

"So are all of the houses you sell…in your family?"

"Oh Heaven no! Just the two I sold to your father. Odd isn't it? Or lucky!" Jane pulled her purse from her shoulder and fished around in it until she produced a black iron key. She then held it out to Lydia.

"Vintage right? Seems to suit you."

Lydia accepted the key and held it in her hand, testing its weight. It was heavier than any key she's ever owned. She located the keyhole and slid the key in. It unlocked with a click.

"It has three bedrooms and three bathrooms. There's a downstairs basement and an attic above the master bedroom. Your father mentioned you would like to set up a dark room in the basement, so I felt that this was the perfect house!"

The two women walked up the steps of the front porch. Lydia noting the wood was slightly giving under their weight.

"Your father already purchased the furniture, so you wont have to worry about that. I see that you really don't have much beyond that little moving van and your car." Jane ushered Lydia into the house and closed the door behind them.

Lydia expected the house to collapse on them when she opened the door but was pleasantly surprised that the interior was rather updated. The banister of the stairs had been replaced, the walls freshly painted, the hardwood floors looked and smelled new…like fresh pine.

"Your dad had it worked on last month so it would be move in ready for you. Bought all new appliances too." Jane explained after seeing the surprise on Lydia's face.

"This is the living room and over there is the dining room. You can see the stairs here and just down the hall is the kitchen. The kitchen has an adorable breakfast nook. There's also the bathroom here and this door next to it is the basement."

Lydia nodded automatically to Jane's tour. She wasn't really paying attention but was admiring her dad's color choices for the house. It wasn't particular her choice in colors, but with the dark wooden furniture, it really complemented the house. Deep forest greens, shades of brown, a few hints of blue, and the kitchen walls looked like it was on the tope side. Lydia smiled.

 _Thanks dad._

"Would you like to see the master bedroom?"

* * *

Jane lead Lydia up the wooden stairs and to the first door left of the stairs. She opened it with a flourish.

Lydia nearly gasped.

It's been seven years since she last saw her childhood bed. In the center of the mauve painted room was a four-poster bed. Lydia kicked off her shoes and padded onto the new wooden floor of her bedroom. Jane stood at the threshold and watched the younger woman inspect her new room.

Her bed was draped in their old linens—red and black spider web patterns. Black and purple pillows where neatly arranged on her bed and a single new heart shaped pillow rested in the center with her initials embroidered on it. Next to her bed was her old nightstand, draped with her spider doilies she made when she was ten years old. Across the room stood her dresser and her black lace curtains framed a French door that lead to an outside balcony.

Lydia could feel the tears well up in her eyes but she stubbornly rubbed them away.

"Your father had a lot to do with this room. I tried to convince him that a young lady didn't need her old furniture from her childhood but-"

"It's perfect." Lydia interrupted. Jane just nodded in acceptance.

"The only thing he couldn't salvage was your…vanity I think?"

Lydia looked over her shoulder. How interesting that her vanity keeps coming up again.

"Your mother told me. Fell right into the mirror?" Jane's eyes dropped to Lydia's hands. "She told me you sliced your fingers up real good. Did you trip or something?"

Lydia became conscious of her hands and began to wring them under the older woman's gaze.

"I'm not really sure. That's what Delia said happened. I just came to and my hands look like they went through the grinder."

Jane visibly cringed from the visual that popped in her mind.

"Funny thing though…I lost my memory. About two years the doctors thought. But…oddly enough…I never hit my head."

* * *

It was half past five in the afternoon when the movers finished bringing in the last of Lydia's dark room supplies down to the basement. The moment the men left the house Lydia closed the door, locked it, and promptly sat down, slumping against the door. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She then set her chin on her knees.

The house was quiet and it was beginning to smell like the incense that was burning in the living room. Her kitchen was a disaster of cardboard boxes, pots, pans, dishes, and various appliances that Delia said she must have at her new home.

Lydia's eyebrow suddenly twitched.

As thankful that she is to her dad, she still couldn't help but feel overwhelmed that he went out of his way and bought her a house. A huge house. With way too many bedrooms. And bathrooms. She would have been happy in a studio flat.

As if summoning him by thought, the phone in her pocket began to ring. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know it was her dad.

"Hey dad." She greeted sweetly into the receiver.

 _Pumpkin. Did you make it safe? I wish you had called earlier._

"No everything is fine. Jane met me here and showed me around."

 _She did? I can't believe…no…wait…I'm sure Delia gave her a call._

"I'm pretty sure she did."

 _So…?_

"I love it dad. It's…more than I can handle at the moment," Lydia giggled. She could almost hear her dad smile.

 _And what do you think about your room?_

"How did you hide it all from Delia?"

 _I have my ways…I couldn't save the vanity, I'm sorry sweetie, but I couldn't have_ Delia _throw away…everything._

Lydia sighed at the tone her dad's voice took on. The furniture in her room belonged to her mother before she was married to Charles. Her mother encouraged Lydia's fondness for all things microbe and so sewed, bought, and created every decoration in her room. She even thought Lydia how to make her spider web doilies.

 _Did you see the purple box?_

Lydia was caught off guard. A purple box?

"I don't think I did…"

 _Did you check out your closet yet?_

Tucking her legs under her, Lydia pushed up and stood from the door and walked to the stairs. She could hear her dad rise from where ever he was as if walking with her. When she reached her door she could hear her dad close a door on his end of the line.

"Dad?"

 _We'll keep this a little secret between us, ok Pumpkin?_

"Sure…"

Lydia opened the door to her closet and switched on the light. Low and behold, there was a single purple box with a white ribbon on top lying on the floor. She smiled and dropped to her knees. In the back of her mind she wondered why and how her dad was able to keep this a secret from her, let alone Delia who would have told her and ruined the entire thing.

 _I know your birthday is a few months away…I'm sure you'll be busy._

She pulled at the bow and lifted the lid.

And then she gasped.

 _You're mother had it when I first met her. Did I ever tell you that story? I ran into her…literally. She was out taking pictures at some party and I bumped into her and I spilled my drink all over her camera. It ruined her film and the lenses never worked properly again._

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her hands began to shake as she lifted the black camera from the velvet box. It was considerably heavier than her own camera, but it was much older too.

 _I bought her a new one, I felt so bad, but even after getting the new one she went and fixed her original one. Mind you, she pretty much never used it again, but I'm sure it would have been something she'd want you to have._

Lydia had seen this camera many times before. It use to be on display at their old home in Florida…back when her mother was alive. It disappeared when Delia moved in. Lydia only assumed Delia had given it away along with everything else her mother had coveted.

"Dad…I…just…thank you. Thank you so much." Lydia was having a hard time holding back the fat tears that began to spill. "For everything. The house, my bedroom, mom's camera…"

 _Lydia. I know it's been hard, especially these past seven years…since. He didn't finish. He didn't have to. I want you to have your own space now. For God sake you're an adult now—its time I let you be one._ Charles laugh made Lydia smile through her tears.

 _I love you Pumpkin._

"Love you too dad."

* * *

Lydia flopped on her bed unceremoniously. After spending an hour and a half researching the old instructions to her mom's camera, she finally decided she had enough of today and it was time to go to bed. She buried her face in the soft comforter and nearly giggled, ecstatic to have her old stuff back.

She rolled onto her side and faced her nightstand. On top was her Count Dracula alarm clock—in it's original rightful place. Next to it was her mother's wooden box.

Lydia's eyes fixed on the lacquered box. She remember all too well what was inside it and hadn't dare do more than move it out of its box onto the dresser…which was on the other side of the room. How did it get there?

Pushing up from the bed, Lydia crawled over and reached for the box. For a moment, her fingers hovered above the brass latch.

 _Oh come on. It's just a box._

"No harm ever came from opening a box."


	4. Note from Author

p style="text-align: center;"Hello Everyone!/p  
p style="text-align: center;"I know the story is having a slow start-but don't worry-I'm in the process of writing the next two chapters! /p  
p style="text-align: center;"Bear with me because it will become EPIC! Betelgeuse will be appearing soon, I promise! /p  
p style="text-align: center;"But we all know a story needs character build up...even though we all know about Lydia./p  
p style="text-align: center;"You just don't know about emmy/em Lydia./p  
p style="text-align: center;"I've also been debating on adding a few other cameo characters from various Tim Burton films, just for fun. /p  
p style="text-align: center;"Please remember to REVIEW! I'd love to hear what everyone thinks about the story-the good and the bad! /p  
p style="text-align: center;"xoxoxo,/p  
p style="text-align: center;"emLucia/em/p 


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